Family
by Morninglight
Summary: From the same world as Faal Aldin Du'ul and Hunne do Lein; backstory for Lia. Irkand Aurelius finds his niece twice and reflects on having a family. Triggers for child abandonment and implied cannibalism.


Note: One-shot from the Teyye do Aurelii series because Hunne is so damn depressing at the moment. Unaz Lotsul (Happy Holidays), everyone!

…

Dar'saad's Camp, Hammerfell, New Life Festival, 4E 190

If there was any place that Irkand came close to feeling safe in Tamriel, it was in the sea-kissed sands of Hammerfell, ancestral home of his mother's people and the last haven of the Blades with the fall of Cloud Ruler Temple. The Ra Gada welcomed their errant offspring with open arms during the Sunset War, which was the name the warriors of the desert called their victory over the Thalmor, and so the survivors of the Great War fled here to recuperate and regroup for the next stage. Now and then Irkand heard rumours of his brother Rustem, still wielding his naginata, but did not chase them. Even before he'd been initiated into the Blades, the former Grand Master had little time for the assassin and less so for their father's clan. Whereas Irkand, since the fall of Bruma and Cloud Ruler, had been wandering Tamriel to slowly rebuild the Aurelii.

Ten years after the Great War begun, the Third Blade had walked into the Imperial Court, publicly ripped off his Amulet of Talos and shattered it, stepping on the pieces while formally renouncing his belief in the Hero-God. The Thalmor were sceptical, especially Nurancar the local Ambassador, but the Emperor had jumped on the idea of having an agent of Irkand's calibre. For his sacrifice of Heaven's Reach Temple, Irkand's clan had received their estate back and the right to rebuild. Slowly, from all around Tamriel, Aurelii trickled in; mostly humans, as Irkand had managed to convince the Altmeri and Bosmeri ones to stay behind enemy lines unless their lives were in immediate danger. Many Breton Aurelii had fled to High Rock and Irkand asked only that they stay in touch and continue the traditions; reluctantly, several had agreed, mostly because they knew how ruthless the assassin could be.

Now he entered a camp which wasn't Aurelii, but a true outpost of the Blades, and watched the Fifth Blade perform an ancient kata with feline grace. Four children – four Khajiit and one human – echoed his movements. Of all those Irkand expected to remain true to the Oath of the Blades, Dar'saad the Khajiit was low on the list, and with considerable justification.

The kits were talented but irrelevant – it was the human, a girl, who was important. Wiry and black-haired, she could have passed for an Imperial with a bit of Ra Gada blood if not for her height, which rivalled that of a grown Imperial man. It was her size, the half-closed turquoise eyes and the hint of an underbite revealed whenever she opened her mouth that proclaimed her maternal lineage: Norc. And instantly recognisable to anyone who knew their Blades clans.

Dar'saad sheathed his katana as Irkand, accompanied by a steely-eyed Cathay warrior, was escorted into the camp. "Ma'randru-jo, Khayla, Atahbah – go help Bhisha prepare dinner for our guest. Dar'lia, stay. Do'moran, return to your post."

The kits murmured their assent and scattered, leaving their elder alone as the guard obeyed. Silently, the Fifth Blade - once responsible for helping the Fourth Blade, the Loremaster, teach the initiates – gestured to Irkand to sit by the nearby fire. He did so, watching Dar'saad move with the beginnings of arthritis as he sat down under the tent, Dar'lia kneeling in the ancient Akaviri manner to the side. She'd learned to listen, it seemed.

"I would never have sent word to you if I could have kept her hidden," Dar'saad said without preamble. "But she grows too tall and I cannot go to Skyrim and give her to the Foe-Reaper, for she will stand out there too. So I must send her with you because in Bruma, she may hide."

"How did she survive?" Irkand asked. He'd been amazed that she had escaped Cloud Ruler when she was only five.

Dar'saad looked to her. "Tell him or not as you wish, Dar'lia. He will not judge any way."

"Elder Dar'saad locked me in a hole with Shraa," the girl whispered, turquoise gaze bleak. "Each day we prayed to a Divine. She died on the fifth day. I ate some of her. On the ninth day, Ri'Myrrh came and found me. I'd prayed to Dibella then. So I worship Her."

Irkand closed his eyes, imagining the trials. When he executed someone, he preferred swift clean deaths. To know that his own flesh and blood had undergone such horror… It made him want to kill Thalmor even more.

"You can worship whoever the hell you want," he told her fervently. "And I don't care what you did to survive, little one."

Her eyes welled with tears and she sprang up, giving him a hug. Irkand's memories flashed back to a little girl, exuberant in a time of war, running up to Uncle 'Kand and doing the same. He hugged her fiercely, feeling something heal inside. He was a monster, by nature and by training; a kinslayer, a murderer, a thief and a spy. But little 'Lia had never cared.

"He spoke for you when the Blades were deciding whether you should be culled or not," Dar'saad continued gently. "The only one of your blood to do so, child."

Irkand rested his chin on the girl's head, not wanting her to see his anger. Rustem and Sigdrifa had been warriors, Grand Master and First Blade as they were, and Delphine the Second Blade would have followed Rustem into Oblivion. They saw only a scrawny girl with no military talent or a gift for magic, not the empathy for others that led her to make friends with the beastmen Blades or the appreciation of tales that led Esbern, the Fourth Blade, to speak for her life. Irkand, who looked beyond the war, saw the eyes of an Akaviri and knew she was a true Aurelii.

Dar'saad met Irkand's gaze and nodded deliberately. Once Elenwen and Nurancar had arrived on the scene, he had taken the Khajiit Blades and fallen back, firing the ancient lore as they went. Since then the Thalmor had been peppered with small rebellions and battles across Elseweyr and Hammerfell.

"Thank you, Uncle Irkand," she whispered. "I don't remember anything of… Before."

_"Her world is Before the time of the fall of Cloud Ruler and After, which is Ri'Myrrh finding her,"_ Dar'saad gestured in hand-talk. _"She didn't talk for two years after that."_

_ "I am going to kill Elenwen," _Irkand gestured in reply. _"Would you like to be there when it happens?"_

The Khajiit bared his fangs in a grin and nodded. _"I don't judge you for what you did, Irkand. You had to think of your clan."_

_ "Talos is a lousy fucking god if He can't protect His so-called chosen ones,"_ Irkand responded angrily.

_"Not every Grand Master is a Northstar or a Martin Aurelius,"_ Dar'saad reminded him. _"Arius started the war… and Rustem failed to finish it."_

_ "Don't fucking remind me."_ But today was New Life and not a time to dwell on old sorrows. He gently pried 'Lia off him and wiped her face.

"I cannot promise you safety. As the daughter of the last Grand Master and Shieldmaiden of Talos, the Thalmor will hunt you for existing. I cannot promise you a good man and a future because the Aurelii are rebuilding and we will need to use every asset we have, including you. But I can promise that so long as you live, your enemies will die screaming and I will never judge you for what you must do."

'Lia looked at him utterly without fear. Irkand supposed she'd seen worse things than what he described. She hugged him again and murmured, "Thank you."

Irkand embraced his flesh and blood, thanking all the Aedra and Daedra that at least one person was grateful for who and what he was.

…

Ragged Flagon, Riften, Festival of Blades, 4E 202

Irkand was in the Ragged Flagon, using one of the alcoves to teach Martin how to use a wazikashi, when a vampire walked into the tavern. He was going to shove the boy behind him and drive the wazikashi through its heart when something familiar about the stance of the cloaked creature – and the Night Mother's soft warning – stopped him.

She raised her left hand to pull down the hood as Karliah and Brynjolf, alerted by their links to Nocturnal, hurried into the tavern. Gaunt but still recognisably Lia, hope and fear burning in those alien gold eyes.

"Mama?" Martin shot out from behind Irkand, rushing to embrace her just as she had once her uncle. "They told me you were dead!"

"If we're being technical, I am," Lia responded with a hint of her familiar dryness, hugging the boy. Irkand realised that the right sleeve hung empty, dispelling an old myth about vampires being able to regenerate.

_They can, my son, if they assume the Vampire Lord form. But if she does that, Molag Bal will claim her soul._ The Night Mother's voice, so like Lia's, was warning.

He repeated what his Mother had said and Lia nodded, not surprised. "I… know that while I'm a vampire, I belong to the King of Domination. I'm hoping that the Dawnguard will know a cure. Or at least stay their hand enough for me to warn them about Harkon."

"We could use that warning too, lass," Brynjolf chided as he neared. "I've… heard rumours of priests who can cure vampirism."

"Priests of Tu'whacca," Irkand confirmed. "He's the Yokuda… the Ra Gada… God of Death."

"Falion in Morthal," Karliah murmured. "I, ah, have supplied black soul gems to him."

"Well, then! Given that I passed through Broken Fang Cavern and collected a nice black soul gem, I'll just need to find an enchanted dagger and kill a few vampires with it," Lia responded, her raspy voice relieved.

"The irony is delicious, lass," Brynjolf grinned. "Uh, ah, there's a few crazies in the Warrens no one will miss-"

"I drained a few skeevers," Lia responded with a sigh. "I… need to stop Harkon from destroying the sun."

"He… What?" Irkand's jaw dropped. Lia ignored his expression as she continued to hug Martin, who clung to her like a burr.

"You heard me, Uncle. I need to stop him. Harkon is one of the… things… released by the return of Alduin."

Irkand looked at his niece. "Are you still the Dawnbringer?"

"I doubt it. But even if I wasn't, I'd have to stop him." Lia disengaged herself from Martin, who sighed. His time in the Thieves' Guild was teaching the boy more discipline than Irkand expected. "Farkas has his hands full keeping Skyrim intact. Balgruuf's… with the Greybeards. And Irileth's on Solstheim."

"…True." Irkand tried not to let his concern show. Lia was a poor fighter. She'd need to have the grace of several Aedra and Daedra to survive going up against a Vampire Lord, whatever that was. But she was right. She was the only one who could be spared.

Lia, ever perceptive, read him and grinned ruefully. "Uncle, the place is like a bloodstained version of the Imperial Court. I… will have to wait on the cure. But it's good to know it exists."

That didn't exactly make Irkand feel better. He didn't know what the Imperial Court was like beyond being asked to kill various people by others. But he would have to trust Lia to know what she was doing.

Martin sighed, looking up at his mother. "Can you stay a bit?" he asked plaintively.

She looked questioningly at Brynjolf and Karliah, who nodded assent. Now that things had settled with both the Guild and the Dark Brotherhood, they could turn their attention to this vampire problem. Irkand didn't like competition when it came to being a dangerous predator, especially when said dangerous predator hurt his niece.

Astrid, who'd been conducting business with Delvin, joined them. Ever the consummate Speaker, she managed to remain bland-faced as Lia explained what was going on while Martin went to get the new lockpicks he'd forged. When the boy returned, chattering away with the resilience of the young, Irkand found himself happier than he'd been in a while despite all the dire things which had happened.

His Family was here. All of them. And that was the greatest gift a man could ask for.


End file.
